


not probably, definitely

by parentaladvisorybullshitcontent



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:13:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parentaladvisorybullshitcontent/pseuds/parentaladvisorybullshitcontent
Summary: "I hate you.”“Sworn enemies build house together. Pitch that to Reductress.”in which they visit their in-progress forever home
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 183





	not probably, definitely

**Author's Note:**

> this is STUPID i wrote it as the stream was happening it is NONSENSE please enjoy if possible

“Shut up,” Phil says. “Seriously, I'll-"

“You'll what?” Dan's still laughing when he reaches out to straighten Phil's hard hat. “Build me to death?”

“Cement you into the wall,” Phil grumbles.

All around them is stone and wood, the bare bones of a house that started out as a plastic bag full of fabric samples and Phil's idle, wistful doodles after long afternoons spent watching too much Grand Designs. “This is so weird.”

Dan nods, his own hard hat falling askew. Phil fixes it automatically, picking a bit of fluff out of his hair as he goes.

“It’s ‘cause it’s not done. And – and we're not, like, _builderly_ guys.”

“I could be a builder.”

“ _Bob_ the Builder, yeah,” Dan snorts.

“Ha ha ha.”

Dan pulls a stupid face then, and Phil can’t help but laugh, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight.

“It feels fake. D'you not think? Like – like there’s been a mistake and the universe is gonna take it all back.”

“ _The universe_ ,” Dan says, derisively. “Like, what, a black hole's just gonna open and suck it all in?”

“All those vases,” Phil says, solemnly. “The fancy candles. That _horrible_ rug-"

“We're getting the rug-"

“No!”

“You said you’d consider it."

Phil definitely didn’t – or he didn’t _mean_ to, at least. It should be impossible that Dan's big sad eyes still get him every time after this long. Years pass and things Dan does every day still knock the wind out of him like sucker punches. They finish each other's sentences and yet Phil still finds new revelations in the small things – in Dan's dimple and his soft hair and his endlessly chapped lips.

He leans in close, huffing out a laugh when their hard hats clunk together.

“Piss off,” Dan says, making a show of pulling back. “I’m withholding affection. Endless kisses for one rug. You decide.”

“Put it somewhere I won’t see it and you’ve got a deal.”

“Ha,” Dan says, and kisses him, his hat knocking against Phil’s glasses somehow. “I’ll put it in the same room as the washing machine, you’ll never see it then.”

“ _Nyer nyer_. I hate you.”

“ _Sworn enemies build house together._ Pitch that to Reductress.”

“Pitch _you_ to Reductress,” Phil says.

Dan's eyes are darting here and there, alighting on brickwork and the plastic-shrouded windows. Phil’s eyes follow his for a moment, giddiness flooding him when he thinks about the wallpaper samples they have at home, the endless furniture bookmarks on Dan's phone. Their texts these days are just a back and forth of laminate flooring and stylish lamps.

They’ll grow old here, he realises.

Here, in a place that’s bare at the moment, an empty shell. He'll kiss Dan’s shoulder in the mornings and leave his socks everywhere and they’ll play video games in their pants until they’re old men, probably.

He looks at Dan, at the brightness of his eyes. _Not probably_ , he thinks, suddenly feeling soft and stupid. _Definitely_.

“Get the rug,” He says.

Dan raises his eyebrows.

“You hate it.”

“I don’t,” Phil says. “If it’ll make you happy I want you to get it. Honestly.”

Dan's smile is so lovely – soft and warm and just for him.

“If I unironically say _you_ make me happy are you gonna roast me?”

Phil looks at the ceiling in a parody of thought.

“Yes,” He says, and laughs at the look on Dan’s face. “No. Shut up. You make me happy too.” Dan leans in then, rests his forehead on Phil’s shoulder. Phil’s hands find his back, stroking softly. “Even if you have the worst taste in rugs.”

Dan laughs into his jacket.

“Gonna kill you,” He murmurs, voice muffled.

“Yeah yeah,” Phil says, pulling him closer.


End file.
